


Pretty Little Thing

by RedOrchid



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, And Also Harry Styles, But Mostly Tumblr, Crossdressing, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Public Sex, Shop!Assistant AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:11:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedOrchid/pseuds/RedOrchid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry buys sexy underwear from shop!assistant!Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Little Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [handcversbruise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handcversbruise/gifts).



> Dear Brittastyles,
> 
> This is probably not the fic you were looking for. I'm very aware that it doesn't fit your wish prompt very well. I should have put down "infidelity" and "emotional infidelity" under things I'm not comfortable writing in my offer prompt, but for some reason I forgot that, and your prompt got saddled with me, for which I am very sorry.
> 
> I hope you'll still enjoy this, even though it's not what you had in mind. It's inspired by [this tumblr post](http://letswastetime-here.tumblr.com/post/70209151602/can-i-bring-this-to-your-attention), so it's shopkeeper!au with crossdressing kink and some public sex in a fitting room. Yay crossdressing porn? :D?
> 
> Merry Christmas!

Louis hates the weeks leading up to Christmas. It’s a feeling he shares with most other people in retail; sometimes it seems like the whole time from November 1st onwards is one long misery-filled drudge of over-the-top Christmas jingles and panicked shoppers who wreck piles upon piles of well-stacked jumpers in their frenzy to find a piece of clothing that the recipient will not wholly hate.

The last Thursday before Christmas is a very typical day, in this respect. Louis works the late shift, meaning that he not only gets to come in to a shop that’s already 70% chaos, but gets the honour of putting everything back in its place and updating the inventory before closing up as well. Usually, he at least gets to share this special level of retail hell with one of the other poor souls working in the shop, but Perrie, who was going to stay until closing, got swept away by her unfairly gorgeous boyfriend a little more than an hour ago for a “quick break” and has yet to return. 

Louis isn’t holding his breath. He can’t say he’s chuffed about having to close up alone, but Perrie has done her fair share of covering for Louis when he’s needed to get out of work early (or come in late; honestly, whoever decided that people should be able to go shopping before noon was a raging sadist). So he can’t really complain. At least not to her face.

He’s finally managed to change the compulsory Christmas playlist for something that doesn’t make his ears bleed, so, all in all, he’s not in an altogether awful mood when the glass doors slide open about fifteen minutes before closing time. He calls out the usual bland greeting while finishing folding the shirt in his hands, and then glances towards the entry of the shop, just to check that whoever came in isn’t trying to call him over, or (worse) look for their size in the perfect pyramid of holiday jumpers Louis has put back together after a group of secondary school girls practically ransacked it.

The guy who just came in is headed for the women’s section, however. Lingerie, to be more precise, meaning he’s probably there to find a sexy little number for his girlfriend, in the hopes that making it a Christmas gift will persuade her to actually wear it for him.

Louis immediately feels a lot happier about his situation. Almost every single item in the lingerie section is ridiculously overpriced, which means the commission on them is a lot better than on most other items in the shop. Louis could do with a few extra quid. He puts on his most charming smile and heads over to where the guy is flipping through hangers.

“Can I help you find anything?”

The guy turns around, and Louis stops short. In front of him is one of the fittest blokes he has met in a long while, all tall, lithe body and a head full of soft curls around an absolutely lovely face. The guy smiles, and—wow— _dimples_. Louis blinks and tries to remember what he’s supposed to be doing.

“Actually, that would be really helpful,” Beautiful Dimples says, and Louis thinks that, yes, he would love to be helpful. Louis is the master of being helpful. Would happily help this bloke all night, in fact. In lots of different, helpful ways.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” he asks, taking the opportunity to move a little closer. So that he can point things out. And stuff.

“Something pretty,” Dimples says. “Red, maybe?”

Something pretty and red. Louis can work with that. He skips over the holiday section, because if he’s not mistaken (and Louis rarely is when it comes to fashion), the guy is wearing head to toe YSL and Burberry, so sets in cheap polyester with fake fur trims are probably not what he’s looking for. Louis heads over to the far end of the section, where some of their more exclusive items hang, and picks out two of his favourites. One is a matching bra and knickers set in deep red silk, simple and classy with lace panels on the sides. The other is a thong and cami, also deep red, made in a high-end poly blend that makes the fabric feel almost liquid against Louis’s skin.

He holds out the first set for Dimples to look at, and bites back a smile at the expression of pure delight that crosses the guy’s face. He takes the hanger from Louis and runs the material over the back of his hands. “This is really pretty.”

 _You’re pretty,_ Louis thinks stupidly, following the movements of the guy’s hands as he turns the set over. They’re beautiful hands, large and capable-looking in a way that makes Louis want to lie back against the nearest flat surface and have the guy run them all over his skin.

He holds out the second set. The top is more of a vest or t-shirt than a cami, really. It’s quite sporty-looking at first glance—something you wouldn’t mind wearing when curling up beneath a blanket on the sofa with a hot cuppa in your hands. The back, on the other hand, tells a different story.

“This one has a little secret,” he says, turning it around slowly so that the guy really gets the full effect. The back of both the vest and the thong is made of thin, translucent mesh, shimmering with tiny golden threads that have been woven into the fabric.

The guy’s eyes widen. He reaches out almost reverently, running the very tips of his fingers down the seam at the side, then slips them inside the top and watches the red fabric shimmer as he closes his hand around it. He feels out the neckline next, stroking it like it’s something precious and brittle, and Louis sees him swallow as he reaches the point where the mesh turns back into regular fabric, sees the fingers of his right hand twitch slightly as he moves down to check on the thong.

“This is _perfect_ ,” he says, voice slightly rougher and deeper than before, and Louis does his best to appear unaffected. 

“What size do you need?”

“Huh?” Dimples says, clearly still caught up in admiring the lingerie. Louis has awesome retail instincts, he really does. “Oh,” he continues, looking up at Louis, then down to the set in his hands. “I don’t actually know?”

“Well, what does she look like?” Louis asks, determinedly not staring at the way Dimples’s fingers are still playing with the hem of the thong. “Body-wise, I mean. Short? Tall? Skinny? Curvy? Dead ringer for a young Kate Moss? Give me something to work with.”

“Oh,” the guy says, looking weirdly uncomfortable all of a sudden. So perhaps not a girlfriend then. Someone he’s hoping will accept the position, more likely. “Um. Tall, I guess? Rather—” He puts a hand against his chest.

“Stacked?” Louis guesses, and can’t hide a grin as the guy blushes fiercely. “Or, not stacked? More the skinny type?”

“Yeah,” the guy says. “Pretty—small up top, I guess. Narrow hips.”

“Would she be able to fit in your jeans?” Louis asks, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing as the guy looks down at himself, frowning adorably. “They’re fantastic, by the way. Very—shapely.”

Oh God, what is he doing? Flirting with blokes shopping for sexy presents for their girlfriends rates pretty high on the scale for both inappropriate and pointless conduct. This is precisely why Louis should not be left to mind the shop on his own.

The guy ducks his head and mumbles something about probably being about the same size. He shifts uncomfortably for a few moments, looking everywhere but at Louis before giving himself a little shake and looking back up. “This one looks about right, actually. Maybe I could try it on? You know, to see if it’ll fit?”

Louis blinks. Um. Oh, wow. That, he was definitely not prepared for. And now he has a brain full of very inconvenient images of just what this guy might look like when pulling off his shirt, raising his arms and letting the liquid red material slither down his body.

So. um. Yes. What was the question again?

Fitting rooms. Right.

Louis pastes on his best professional smile and points towards the back of the shop. “Left corner, past the counter. Go right ahead.”

“Thank you,” the guy says, ducking his head again as he quickly makes his way past Louis. He’s holding the hanger half-hidden in front of his body, like he’s expecting someone to take it away from him. Louis suddenly feels like a massive arse. So what if the guy wants to try on his girlfriend’s underthings and see if they fit? Now that he thinks about it (in a non-sexy, non-brain exploding kind of way), it’s actually a highly practical idea, especially considering the price tag on the stuff and the shop's firm no-returns policy on underwear.

Bottom line: Pretty Dimples Guy shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable going about his Christmas shopping just because Louis happens to be a massive tit who can’t control his hormones. Louis takes a deep breath and walks over to the fitting rooms. No matter how cute the guy is, Louis can still be professional towards him. Really. Professional retail conduct, starting right now.

“Everything all right?” he asks, stopping a few feet away from the only booth with a closed curtain. “Listen, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, just now. I’ll let you have a moment to see how things fit. My name’s Louis, by the way, so if you need another size or something, just holler.”

He’s almost back at the counter when he hears the guy calling his name. Right. Okay, so Louis can definitely do this. It’s just a customer trying on clothes, nothing more, nothing less.

He walks back and spots Pretty Dimples peeking out over the top of his curtain. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Louis says. “Did you need a different size?”

The guy visibly hesitates, then clears his throat. “Um, not necessarily? But maybe, if you could give me some help? I’m not sure how everything is supposed to—fit.”

Jesus Christ. Okay. Yes. Fitting lingerie. Louis knows all about that. Is a favourite shopping partner for many of his female friends even, always giving them his honest opinion on whether a certain pair of knickers is too kinky or just kinky enough without ogling their girly bits.

No girly bits here, though. Only boy bits. Which are, right now, only covered by flimsy little pieces of partially see-through red fabric. Definitely a lot more problematic.

“Sure,” Louis says, “no problem at all.”

Famous last words.

The guy steps back and pulls the curtain a little to the side, giving Louis room to step inside the fitting room. 

“It’s this back part,” he says, turning around and presenting his back to Louis. “Is it supposed to, you know, cut in like that?”

Louis swallows, forces himself to look. It’s even worse than he feared. The guy’s back is beautiful. He’s built just enough for Louis’s tastes, with long, lithe muscles, perfect shoulders, narrow waist. The mesh is showing off every line in his back perfectly, draping itself gorgeously to leave one creamy shoulder bare and emphasising the line of the guy’s neck.

And further down. Well. Louis would really like to know what kind of atrocities he committed in an earlier life to deserve this type of awful punishment. Because the guy’s arse is _perfect_ , and the thong rests snugly across his hips, dipping down in between the cheeks like the worst tease in the history of the world. 

Louis finds himself reaching out without thinking. He manages to stop himself before making contact, but not before the guy notices the aborted movement in the mirror.

“What?” he asks. “Is it wrong? You can help me adjust it. It’s okay.”

Holy buggering shit. Louis is not going to survive this experience.

“It’s just,” he says, stalling for time, because there really isn’t anything he can do to make the outfit look better. “I think you can hitch it up a little here,” he tries, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check as he reaches out and touches a hand to the guy’s hip, moves the thin material a little higher up.

“Thank you,” the guy says softly, and wow, they’re standing really close all of a sudden. Louis keeps his eyes firmly on the ground, tries to keep his breathing even as he feels the guy’s hair brush over the side of his face.

“I’m Harry,” they guy says, and Louis wants to laugh, because _what?_. What is actually happening to him right now? 

His hand is still resting against Harry’s hip. He takes another shaky breath. Lets it out slowly to try and regain a little bit of composure.

It’s a losing battle.

“Do you like it?” Harry asks. “I think I do. I like it a lot.”

It feels like a much bigger question, and Louis is helpless right now, completely caught up in a haze of smooth skin, red knickers, beautiful boy right in front of him, one who is shivering a little under Louis’s touch.

God, Louis really hopes he’s not misreading this.

“Yeah,” he croaks, clears his throat, tries again. “I think it’s perfect.”

Harry smiles and tilts his head, and the next thing Louis knows, he’s being pressed up against the mirror in the small fitting room and kissed to within an inch of his life. He scrambles for purchase and finds Harry’s back, wraps both arms tightly around him and clings weakly as Harry reaches for the hem of Louis’s shirt, pulling it up with impatient little tugs between kisses.

Louis helps, twisting out of his shirt and lifting his hips up in invitation, making an embarrassingly needy sound into Harry’s mouth as Harry’s hands start working on pushing down his jeans.

“Touch me,” Harry says, voice hoarse and clearly affected now. “Please, Louis, just touch me already.”

Louis is more than happy to comply. He puts a hand to Harry’s face, stroking a path down his neck to the bare shoulder. There are tattoos peeking out over the top of the neckline, so Louis pulls it down a little, uncovering a pair of birds on Harry’s chest.

“These are beautiful,” Louis murmurs, ducking his head so he can slide his lips across the outline. Harry moans quietly, and one of his hands come up to tangle in Louis’s hair, adding a little bit of pressure.

Louis can definitely take a hint. Would love to, even. Hell yes.

He goes to his knees slowly, kissing his way down Harry’s chest and stomach through the thin fabric of the camisole. The material stops at the waist, leaving a strip of bare skin for Louis to map out with his lips and teeth. Harry is gloriously responsive, reacting to almost every touch, even though Louis can tell that he’s doing his best to keep still and quiet.

Which is probably a good idea, considering. Which Louis should not think about because if he adds the risk of getting caught to the situation at hand, things will be over for him very, very quickly. He closes his eyes for a moment and tries to steady himself.

“I want to you to suck me with the knickers still on,” Harry tells him breathlessly. “Want to see your fingers slip inside and take me out, push them out of the way just enough to get your mouth on me. Want it so much. Fuck, just—oooh.”

Louis has his thumbs twisted in the material before Harry can finish his sentence, pulling the fabric down where it’s tenting obscenely over Harry’s hard prick, getting the head out and pressing his mouth against the crown. He pulls down the knickers a little more, just enough to get the first inch or so into his mouth, and, _fuck_ , Louis loves being on his knees, absolutely _loves it_. Yeah, this isn’t going to last long at all.

Luckily, Harry seems to wholeheartedly agree with him, hips straining against Louis’s hold, trying to get closer every time Louis takes in a little bit more. He keeps on talking, whispering dirty little things to Louis as he sucks him, and Louis loves it, feels himself getting closer to the edge every time the head of Harry’s cock brushes the top of his throat, every time the long length of it glides all along his tongue. Harry’s hips are moving now, little sharp jerks trying to get closer that Louis finds both meltingly hot and terribly endearing. He takes Harry in as far as he’s able to and doubles his efforts, closing his eyes in pleasure as he feels the first hot spurt hit the back of his throat. He keeps sucking hard until he’s swallowed it all and Harry is a shivering, moaning mess above him, then pulls off carefully and tucks Harry back into the red knickers, adding a soft kiss to the underside when he’s done.

“Come here,” Harry says. His voice is shot to hell. If Louis didn’t know better, he’d have thought Harry was the one who’d just spent some quality time on his knees with a hard prick in his mouth. 

Louis gets to his feet, lets Harry pull him close and push his hand into Louis’s briefs to curl around his cock. Ten strokes in, and Louis is already starting to come apart—already on the edge from everything that’s come before—and Harry’s hands are truly lovely, adding just the right pressure to coax the last shreds of control away from him.

Louis buries his face against Harry’s neck and lets himself go. He comes for what feels like forever, Harry stroking him through it and then just holding him close as he struggles to get his breathing back to normal.

Wow. Honestly, just—yeah, wow is a good word.

“So, I guess I’d better buy these,” Harry says, sounding like he’s trying very hard to keep himself from laughing.

Louis looks down at the very obvious come stains now decorating the front of the vest. The front of the knickers are just as bad, soaked through and stretched out over Harry’s softening cock. “That’d be very helpful. Seeing as you’re still wearing them and all.”

Harry snorts and starts pulling his clothes back on, covering up the evidence as best he can. “What time do you close?”

Louis pulls his jeans back up his hips and reaches for his phone, which has somehow managed to stay in the back pocket. “About fifteen minutes ago.”

“Would you like to go for coffee?”

“No,” Louis says, and keeps a straight face as Harry’s smile falters. For all of two seconds, because, wow, seeing Harry look suddenly sad and worried actually hurts his chest a little bit. “I’d love to go for tea, though.”

Harry’s answering smile is breathtaking, and Louis can’t help but answer it. They stand there, beaming foolishly at each other for what feels like several minutes, before Harry takes a small step closer, reaching for Louis’s waist and pulling him in for a quick kiss. “I’ve got tea at my flat.”

“Sounds great.” He kisses Harry back, then slides a hand casually into his back pocket, letting his thumb rest right at the top of Harry’s jeans, stroking against the edge of the knickers, just out of sight. “Let me just ring these up for you. Employee discount. We get 40% off.”

“That’s okay,” Harry says. “Really, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Louis replies. “And if it makes you feel better, you can pay me back in sexual favours. Preferably including these lovely purchases you’re about to make.”

“Fair enough,” Harry says, and there’s another smile on his face, one that promises all sorts of filthy things to come. Louis has never finished a sale and closed up the register faster in his life.

“Let’s go.”

“Perfect,” Harry says, and as they walk out of the shop, he takes Louis’s hand, weaving their fingers tightly together.

Louis smiles.

Yeah. Perfect sounds about right.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Un cliente fuera de lo común](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763855) by [Sandra_Almighty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandra_Almighty/pseuds/Sandra_Almighty)




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